


Oh how he loved to be home.

by Michaelssw0rd



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nostalgia, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 15:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12609276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michaelssw0rd/pseuds/Michaelssw0rd
Summary: John Riley is feeling nostalgic about the past, and Harold is struggling with his full time day job as Professor Whistler. They are both exhausted and drained.But at the end of the day... they still have each other.





	Oh how he loved to be home.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [talkingtothesky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/gifts).



> Because Sky said her brain was fried, and that she wanted some Rinch fluff, and I thought that was enough of a reason to ditch studies and write something for her. ♥

It was past midnight when John finally managed to wrap up the case for the day. Then he spent another couple of hours at the precinct to get his paperwork in order- he had learned that this was the most reliable way to please the higher-ups.

Exhausted, he made his way to the small modest apartment under Detective Riley’s name, trying to suppress the pang of longing he felt for the open spaced apartment he owned in another life, its large windows and comfortable bed. He always felt more nostalgic when he was tired.

Lost in the memories of the past- he didn’t know it back then, but those were the good days, the very best- he opened the door to his apartment and turned on the lights.

He whipped around, startled, when he heard a sputtering sound from behind him, and an incoherent, “Whazzit?”

“Harold?” He relaxed his grip on the gun in his pocket. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”

“Mr. Reese?” Harold sounded confused, as if it wasn’t John’s apartment he was sitting in. John saw him open his eyes slightly, squinting, before closing them again and groaning. “Off!”

John’s gaze moved from where Harold was slumped in the chair, to the open laptop in front of him, and the piles of papers beside it. Then he looked up at the lights.

_Ah._

He moved back towards the switchboard and turned off the lights, letting the room be illuminated only by the ambient lights coming from the windows. Harold’s soft sigh made him smile, reminding him that he might have lost a lot of things when Samaritan took over, but he didn’t lose the stuff that really mattered.

“Better?” he asked, his teasing tone getting a predictable huff in response.

“Yes. Very much so. Thank you.” Harold sounded cranky, and John felt like an asshole for finding that adorable.

“Bad day?” His eyes had adjusted to the dark enough to notice the details now, the empty tea cups around the table, the books littering it, the way Harold’s hair were in disarray. John had a moment of insanity- induced by sheer exhaustion- where he imagined Harold clenching his hair in his fists in frustration, and the image made him choke out a laugh.

Harold gave him a sharp look of annoyance at that, and he tried to will the grin away from his face. He wasn’t sure he succeeded, so instead he moved behind Harold, smoothing his hair. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not exactly.” Harold shook his head, but before John could say anything he continued. “I just did not anticipate how exhausting this can get… this _vigilante work_ along with having a full time day job.”

“Well, we can’t all be batman.”

“I disagree. Being Batman would be much easier than this. Batman always lets other people do his day job for him. And the money doesn’t hurt either.”

John smiled at that. “Are we resenting a fictional superhero his perks now?”

Harold sighed again, this time in resignation. “I am sorry for being so short. I just spent the entire day grading unambitious papers, and then creating elaborate alias for our Number, something that can withstand Samaritan’s scrutiny. I think it’s fair to say that my brain is…”

Harold made a complicated gesture with his hand at that, which John could not understand. “Hmm?”

“… fried,” Harold finished.

John couldn’t help laughing at that. Harold turned around to look at him disdainfully, but John simply bent down and pressed his lips to Harold’s forehead. “Let’s give your circuits some rest then, shall we?”

He closed the lid of the laptop, and helped the suddenly pliable Harold up from his chair, knowing his back must be in agony after sitting so long. Methodically, he stripped the layers of Harold’s suit, sparing a moment’s thought to the feel of cloth beneath his fingers, so much coarser than it used to be. But underneath it, the welcome warmth of Harold’s skin felt exactly like it used to. Everything had changed, and yet, nothing had.

Harold made helpful encouraging noises every now and then, but otherwise followed John’s lead without any resistance, his eyes half closed, completely relying on John to take care of him. It never failed to make John’s hands tremble and his heart race, the sheer vulnerability that Harold showed to him, the trust.

He adjusted the pillows and Harold sank into the bed, letting out a satisfied groan. John smiled to himself and, after stripping down, joined Harold under the covers.

“Missed you.” Harold whispered after a while, after they were both comfortable and John thought Harold was already asleep. Harold’s hand moved until it rested on John’s arm, his fingers stroking slightly his skin slightly.

“Too bad your brain is too fried to appreciate the view then.” John quipped, feeling an urge to lighten the mood. They both missed each other, the opportunities to meet being rarer and farther in between, their jobs keeping them busy and apart. Missing each other seemed to have become their state of being.

“I am offended that you think your body is the only thing I appreciate about you.” Harold’s tone became lighter as well, the heavy ache of loneliness lifting from it. “I also equally appreciate your voice.”

John turned towards him, watching Harold in the dim light and felt his heart swell in his chest. In moments like these, nostalgia had no space to exist, his heart filled to the brim with love for this man.

Even in the darkness, John could see the smile at the corner of Harold’s lips as he said, “So… tell me about your day.”

John laughed again, feeling like he had laughed more in the last hour than he had all week. His fingers moved towards Harold’s hair again, running through the soft strands. “I see what you did there.” Harold just shrugged at that, unashamed. “It was completely monotonous. You don’t want to hear about it.”

“Please.” Harold burrowed under the covers, “For my fried circuits. Your voice will help them recalibrate.” When John didn’t say anything for a few seconds, Harold added in a small voice. “I find it comforting.”

Heart in his throat, John took a moment to ground himself in the moment, in the feel of the soft sheets beneath him, and the warmth of his partner beside him, his own private heaven in a world that looked more like hell every day he woke up. Then, he continued running his fingers through Harold’s hair as he started speaking, talking about his day, about how he reached work late and got reprimanded, about the bad coffee at the precinct, about Fusco and his complaints, about the homicide case he was working on, until he felt Harold’s breath even out.

He kept speaking even afterwards, his voice soft and low, until he felt contentment slowly settle deep inside his bones, making his eyelids heavy, and his breathing slow, and let himself give in to the pull of sleep.


End file.
